IN THIS ISSUE:– New Labeling Rules (Sort of) – The Sake of Ishikawa Prefecture– Good Sake to Look
For – Sake Events/Announcements

———————————————————–New Labeling Rules (Sort of)

———————————————————–

As of January 1 of last year, a couple of new rules for labeling sake have come into effect. While they are admittedly dubious in
their usefulness, as well as their applicability, it is worth it for those of us that study sake to know of them.

One year ago, a new rule-law was enacted that stipulates the listing of the seimai-buai
(degree of rice milling) be listed on the label for the junmai-shu class of sake. Previously this was 70%, which of course means that a minimum of 30% of the outside of the grains was milled away. But as of
January 2004, it is no longer necessary to mill that much away, yet, brewers are currently obligated to list how much the rice was actually milled.

Why the rule change? Because many brewers, especially
some of the gargantuan brewers, make inexpensive sake from rice only, i.e. no added alcohol. Yet, they had to call this “kome dake no sake,” or “rice only sake,” as the seimai-buai was less
than 70%. Now, they can call it junmai-shu. This was, I think, a good rule change for a number of reasons. For one, it opened the door for many brewers to begin to experiment with sake made using rice that has
only been milled down to 80% of its original size, or less. While certainly this is fuller and rougher, it is indicative of sake long ago, and from what I have tasted can be tasty and chewy at the same time.

I wrote about these changes in this newsletter about a year ago. What I did not realize then was that there were a couple of ancillary rules implemented as well. The first of those reads thusly:
when a sake rice is listed on the label (note that brewers do *not* have to do this), the percentage of the total rice used in that sake that corresponds to that variety must also be provided.

Now, on
the surface, this seems like a damn good rule. It prevents less than scrupulous brewers (not that any necessarily exist on this level) from taking several tons of some schlock rice, lobbing in a single grain of
Yamada, and announcing with great fanfare that their sake is made from Yamada Nishiki. Not that this is really a problem. The proof is in the final sake; discerning consumer would know. But some may have been
pushing the limit.

But the other night, as I sat sipping sake with two brewers, it was grumble-city-Idaho. It seems they felt that the Ministry of Taxation, the power behind such decisions, was a bit out
of touch with reality in making these rules, at least with the reality surrounding small breweries like these two.

“The problem arises,” began the chattier (and more opinionated) of the two,
“when you bear in mind that rice is an agricultural product, a creation of nature, that does not always grow according to plan. This means that we brewers – and especially we tiny brewers – do not always
receive the exact quantities of the varieties we hope to. This, naturally, screws up our planning. So we often need to go to ‘plan B,’ and make adjustments on the fly.”

“The
problem continues,” he proceeded, “when we are brewing in small batches, oh, let us say 600 kilograms to 1000 kilograms of rice. We run out of, say, Yamada Nishiki, and one batch has
perhaps 550 kilograms of Yamada Nishiki, but we are forced to put in just a few – say 50 – kilos of another rice. Even though the huge majority of the rice was the best stuff available, that little dollop of
other rice limits us.”

“The problem is perpetuated,” he ensued, “when you remember that usually we will blend the tanks of a given grade of sake to ensure consistency, so that anyone
buying a bottle of that grade anywhere will enjoy the same flavors and aromas. So let us say that out of 20 tanks of one product, only one had less than 100% Yamada. And that one had just that little dollop of
another rice. But, strictly speaking, when we blend them, that little portion of some-other-rice gets spread out across the whole kit-n-caboodle, and we are therefore forced to account for that in our labeling,
and cannot no longer list any bottle from that 20-tank batch as all-Yamada, even though for all intents and purposes, it is.”

He softened his gripe with the admission that the problem was solvable by
simply taking the trouble to list the reality on the label. For example, “contains 99% Yamada Nishiki and 1% Whatevuh Nishiki.” But that in and of itself is a hassle.

He also, in all fairness,
admitted that this is rarely a problem at larger breweries, where their buying power enables them to procure larger amounts of rice more easily. And, furthermore, there is zero obligation to list any rice at
all, so a second potential solution is to simply allow consumers to assess the quality of a sake on its flavors and aromas alone (which is what we should all be doing anyway). But as I said, this was the opinion
of only one brewer, on one day, and the problem is not likely perceived in the same light by all.

The second rule added last year was that when the seimai-buai is given, the number listed refers to the
least-milled rice in the batch. So, if most of the rice was milled down to 40% of its original size, but a little bit was only milled to, say, 65%, then the seimai buai must be listed as 65%.

This,
again, looks like what appears to be a good rule. It prevents a brewer from saying “made with la-de-dah rice milled down to 35%,” when in fact most of it was only milled down to 60%, with just a grain
or two milled down to the 35% level. Again, not that this would ever happen; this is just an exaggeration to make it all clear. What does often happen in brewing is that the rice earmarked for koji production,
the heart of the process, will be

milled more than that rice added to the tank as a straight starch source. So you can have rice milled to two different levels in the same tank.

A logical
progression of the above rant would indicate that the same perceivable downside exists for small brewers as the choice-of-rice issue. If most of the rice was milled to, say, 35%, but just a tad was unavoidably
left at 60%, the whole batch would get dinged as 60%. And, arguably, the same workable and fair solutions exist, i.e. telling the whole story on the label, or telling none at all. But one added twist is that
many brewers mill their own rice, in-house. So this rule only adversely affects those that outsource their milling, and for reasons beyond their control cannot get rice milled to the degree they specify. In
truth, rarely would the stars align to create a situation like this. But again, the point here is to convey an understanding of the rules, and the reality that surrounds them, and sake brewing in
general.

I reiterate that there is no obligation for brewers to list either the rice or the seimai-buai (milling rate). But especially for good sake, many brewers prefer to give that information. So *if*
they list the rice, they need to say what percent of the total it is, and *if* they list the seimai-buai, they need to state the least-milled level. And, while I very strongly believe in drinking the sake and
not the label, I am also in favor of more information for consumers. Be sure to pay more attention to labels when next you indulge in good sake.

Interspersed between long-famous
sake-brewing regions, such as Fushimi, Nada and Niigata that produce lakes of the stuff, are locales that have well-established sake traditions all their own. Places such as Yamagata, Shizuoka, Shimane and Kochi
– among many others – have well-defined styles and histories that are unique and interesting. Although far from huge in production terms, some of the finest sake in the land comes from these places. Ishikawa
Prefecture sits firmly ensconced on that list.

Located on the Sea of Japan, Ishikawa is nice and cold – perfect for sake brewing. There are basically three regions in Ishikawa within which the sakagura
are concentrated. Noto, on the peninsula of the same name, is home to perhaps half the kura, with almost as many in Kaga at the other end. The remaining few (five to be exact) are close to Kanazawa in the
center.

The flavor profile of Ishikawa sake has done an about-face over the last few decades. In the mid-1970s, it was fairly heavy and sweet sake, full and complex, with a good dose of umami, the
hard-to-describe goodness that is almost intuitively sensed. But since then, it has shifted greatly toward the drier side of things.

Of course, all sake in Japan has become much more dry throughout the
years, although that swingin’ pendulum of consumer tastes is moving assuredly if slowly in the other direction now. However, Ishikawa sake is far from excessively dry. Perhaps the (admittedly) gossamer
thread of consistency running through most Ishikawa sake is a combination of dense, compact set of flavors, pleasantly low acidity, yet a smart overall footprint, especially in the ginjo-shu realms. In other
words, it is full and complex, yet without the breadth that such sake usually displays.

This may have been due to the efforts of the late Ikemi Motohiro, who was a tasting official and general sake
sensei. In the ’70s, he diligently went around teaching the techniques of proper ginjo-shu brewing to the kura throughout the prefecture. The result was that out of nowhere several no-name Ishikawa kura
began to waltz off with gold prizes at the tax department’s new-sake appraisal competitions. They are hardly “no-name” anymore.

When I visited Ishikawa last spring, I dropped in to visit
the kura that brews Tedorigawa. Mr. Yoshida, the current president, described how Ikemi-sensei and others like him would evaluate the condition of sake-in-progress.

“Back then, a kantei-kan
(inspector) would come in, roll up his sleeves to way above the elbow, and go from one small tank of moto (yeast starter) to the next. He would reach in deep, feeling the condition of the mash with his entire
arm, then deep in the middle of the tank take a handful of the stuff and squeeze the dickens out of it; this was how he assessed the condition of the dissolving rice and koji in the moto. Then, he would pull out
his arm, one of our lackeys would wash it off as he stood there, and it was on to the next tank of moto. When they came, which was often, they would check on each tank like this, then report back and advise
us.”

Apparently, they succeeded too in passing on the tricks of the trade to the brewers themselves, as Mr. Yoshida adds with something akin to disappointment or regret, “but you never see them
coming around anymore.”

Much sake in Ishikawa is brewed with water running off tall and beautiful Hakusan Mountain, which then flows down and into the Tedorigawa river. Compared to the rest of Japan,
water here is relatively hard. This is neither good nor bad, but rather calls for brewing techniques suited to such water, as harder water usually allows more vigorous, if rougher (when allowed to continue
unchecked), fermentations.

Hard water also lends itself very well to the brewing of yamahai-shikomi sake, perhaps the funkiest style of sake out there, and one of which I am personally fond, and write of
often. Many kura from this region (and all over Japan, too) brew yamahai, but the stuff from this regions seems to be more common, and certainly more well known than that from anywhere else.

Long ago,
sake from this region was known as Kaga no Kikuzake, or “Chrysanthemum sake of the Kaga region.” The name, it seems, was bestowed by the warlord Toyotomi Hideyoshi during his hanami (cherry blossom
viewing) parties there. It refers to sake brewed with water from Hakusan, in deference to the goddess of the mountain, Kikuri Hime, who resides in a shrine called Shiroyama Hime Jinja. The term Kaga no Kikuzake
is still used today within Ishikawa, although not as commonly.

In fact, I recently heard a curious historical anecdote. Hideyoshi was the second of Japan’s three great unifiers, the first being Oda
Nobunaga. Someone recently explained to me that Nobunaga actually preferred sake from another region of Ishikawa, other than Kaga. When Hideyoshi took over upon Nobunaga’s death, he went way out of his way
to be different from his predecessor in every way, including his choice of sake regions. As such, he deliberately promoted and drank the sake of the Kaga region instead of Nobunaga’s preference, making it
the famous brewing region it is today. However, the details of this story got lost in the haze of the evening, compounded with my lack of in-depth knowledge of Japanese history. On top of that, the gent who told
me is a bit of a loose cannon, so perhaps it is best not to quote this newsletter on this one point.

There are, at present, just under 40 kura actively brewing sake now in Ishikawa. Many are small
kura that make top-notch sake but are not often found outside of the prefecture. There are, however, plenty of great Ishikawa sake that are much more easily found.

But more than just great product comes
from Ishikawa. This region is also the home of the Noto toji, a famous guild of master brewers, and in fact the fourth largest toji guild in Japan. Albeit in smaller numbers today, from the late Edo Period, Noto
toji began to travel to brew in kura as far away as the Osaka-Kobe-Kyoto region, as well as Shiga and Shizuoka Prefectures.

As a general indicator of how good Ishikawa sake is, consider this: 80 percent of all sake brewed there
is consumed within the prefecture. There are still many, many relatively unknown smaller kura making a perfectly decent living selling to local customers. A kanpai to their continued
success.

———————————————————-Good Sake to Look For———————————————————-

Let us look this month at some
greater- and lesser-known Ishikawa sake. As I got a bit carried away in creating my “must include” list, the reviews are necessarily brief.

– KikuhimeI have reviewed the
“Chrysanthemum Princess” no less than four times over the last five years in this newsletter. Yet their reputation demands it. Here, they use Yamada Nishiki for every single product they make. Bar
none. Even the cheap stuff. Not only that, but it all comes from Yoshikawa Village in Hyogo, and “Special A” graded fields. While it would be hard to call them diversified, they cannot be accused of
lacking in focus. They have many expensive products, including a daiginjo called “Gin,” retailing for about 10,000 yen a 720ml bottle, and (my favorite) one called “BY,” a one-year aged
daiginjo selling for half that. In short, their sake is very solid, full, exquisitely structured and balanced, but very, very far from wimpy, delicate or even attractively feminine.

– Kikuhime Yamahai
Junmai-shuKikuhime Yamahai is about as wild and gamey as it gets. It pretty much defines the genre, especially in terms of the bitter and tart aspects, as well as balanced but high levels of sweetness and
acidity. Exported to at least the US.

– Tengumai Another Ishikawa classic, Tengumai is overall a subtle, deep brew with a classically clean finish. Much of it is of the (wonderfully) orthodox
ginjo genre, without being overly ostentatious or extreme in any one facet.

– Tengumai Yamahai Junmai-shuIf the above Kikuhime is the “yang” of the yamahai world, Tengumai is the
“yin.” Certainly wild and gamy enough to be recognizable as a yamahai immediately, it also strikes a subtle balance between rich and light, with more coming out of the woodwork in every sip. Exported
to at least the US.

– Tedorigawa “Meiryu” DaiginjoAutumnal fruits in the aromas move smoothly into a focused, slightly earthy flavor, peppered with a blend of herbal and fruity facets. At
2500 yen a 720ml bottle in Japan, this sake is very well priced. While it is not currently exported, they are soon to be exporting at least a yamahai junmai-shu, and other products – perhaps even this one – will
surely follow.

– Jokigen Perhaps the currently most famous toji in Japan, Naohiko Noguchi, left Kikuhime a few years ago for nearby Jokigen. His mark has already been made here as well. Much sake
here balances ginjo aromatics with more earthy, solid flavors.

– Sougen JunmaishuOne of the largest brewers in the region, yet one of the most distinctive. This junmai-shu is best described as a
new, gleaming, well-waxed Mack truck. It is big, but beautiful. Full and only barely fruity, it is solid enough to support an incredibly wide range of food. Somehow, Sougen seems to appeal to almost everyone.
This junmai-shu is available in at least the US.

– FukumitsuyaNow this is a company that I seem to have failed to introduce before, which I admit has been a grave oversight. Fukumitsuya is a
large-ish brewer that makes several brands, most notably Fukumasamune, Kuro-obi, and Kagatobi. They put a lot of energy and effort into bringing sake into the 21st Century, especially in relation to sake and
food.

– Kagatobi Junmai GinjoLately, Kagatobi is to me the most appealing line coming from Fukumitsuya, and this junmai ginjo is fruity in the aromas and front/top part of the flavor profile, but
dovetails into a focused, compacted finish. More of a light style than an earthy one for sure, but still with a solid, umami-laden structure. Kagatobi was once available in the US, and if it is not now, rumor
has it that it will again be soon.

– Manzairaku “Hakusan” Junmai DaiginjoSitting near the foot of one of the most beautiful mountains in Japan, Hakusan, the Manzairaku kura itself is
classically beautiful, as is the sparsely populated, old-Japan village surrounding it. This junmai daiginjo is, in short, peach and strawberry laced on top, softly textured in the middle, but tied together with
a mild but effectively placed acidity. Manzairaku is being exported to several countries.

– Shishi no Sato “Shun” Junmai-shu“Village of the Lion” is an old and tiny kura
that can be hard to find, yet memorable enough to make it worth remembering. Most interesting to me is this 13.6% alcohol genshu (undiluted sake) that, while gentle, has flavor and aroma in spades. How they kept
the alcohol that low (for a genshu) and the flavor and aroma this gorgeous I cannot fathom. Nuts and a very mild sweetness are the overriding characteristics here, and they promote it as a sake that gently
supports food in the background, confidently content with a back-seat role.

– Benkei Junmai-shuAnother tiny brewer that I rarely find, one I stumbled on in a tiny liquor store with clueless
(if kind) owners. It must have been recommended by the distributor. Benkei was the name of a 12th century warrior priest that was the heroic staunch companion of one of the most tragic figures in Japanese
history, Yoshitsune Minamoto. Smooth and with an umami-loaded foundation, this sake is anything but tragic, very unassuming, with a pleasant balance of sweetness and acidity.

———————————————————-Sake Events and Announcements———————————————————-

Sake and Pottery Seminar at Takara,
March March 19, 2005

On the evening of Saturday, March 19, I will hold a sake seminar at Takara, in Yurakucho. The topic for the evening will be yamahai and kimoto styles of sake: what makes them the
funky types that they are, what kind of a range of flavor profiles you can expect, and how the differ from, er, “normal” sake. This will offer participants a chance to unravel the mysteries of yamahai
and kimoto, and to know whether or not they fit into your realm of preferred sake.

The cost for the evening – half a dozen sake, ample food, a lecture and printed material – will be 7000 yen. Those
interested can reserve a spotby sending me an email. No deposit is required.

Takara is located on the B1 level of the Tokyo Forum, the convention center just outside Yurakucho Station. More detailed
instructions for getting there will follow with the confirmation email.

Stay tuned until next month, when I will definitely be able to announce the beginning of a set of new seminar-events at a different
location, a very famous and very traditional sake pub in another part of Tokyo. Details are being hammered out as you read this.